Tears
by Cinomarsh
Summary: Sweeney hears Mrs. Lovett crying for the first time. One-shot.


**Disclaimer: I don't own Sweeney Todd. I did write this one-shot, though! I hope you like it and leave me ****nice reviews! Or mean reviews! I'm not picky.**

I couldn't sleep. I didn't usually sleep well; I couldn't bring myself to use the room that Lucy and I had once shared so I slept in my chair. Not to mention the horrible nightmares... So I was used to not getting much sleep. But there was something actively keeping me awake tonight.

It was faint, but audible. There was a soft, pulsing sound coming from downstairs. It sounded very much like female sobs, but I didn't want to believe that that was what they were. There was only one woman downstairs and I didn't want to talk to her. If she wasn't really crying she would pepper me with pointless questions, attempting to be casual, hoping I wouldn't notice the way she'd look at me... The thought made me cringe a little. But I couldn't let that noise continue. I made myself a promise that, if the sound did turn out to be... Her, I would come right back upstairs without another thought. I slowly rose from the chair, opened the door and walked down the stairs to the pie shop.

I slipped my hand inside my pocket and felt for my razors. They calmed me, helped me feel grounded; the baker often had the opposite effect. I pulled out a razor and flicked it open. I felt the comfortable weight in my hand as I entered the pie shop. It was as if the sound was magnified there. It was very clear now that they were a woman's sobs, and they were coming from Mrs. Lovett's room. So clear, in fact, that it was a wonder that the boy hadn't woken up yet. He was a good drinker, however. He was probably just sleeping off his latest bottle of gin.

I was just turning to leave again, when a thought occurred to me: I'd never heard her cry before. Sure, she'd been frustrated with me or disappointed around me before, but never as heartbroken as these sobs told me she was now. Each sob oozed with emotion and called out as if she was begging for help. She was always such a strong woman. I didn't know anything could break her this way.

I really did want the noise to stop, so instead of going back upstairs as I'd promised myself, I walked over to her room and cracked her door open ever so slightly so I could see inside.

She was curled up on her bed, blankets wrapped around her body, her eyes squeezed shut and her cheeks streaked with tears. She rocked back and forth as she cried, but when she opened her eyes, there was no sadness or heartbreak. What I saw in her eyes was much, much worse. She was terrified. I had no idea why she was so crushingly afraid, but I needed to find out. She was never like this. She was Mrs. Lovett and she wasn't afriad of anything.

I opened the door slowly so that she wouldn't be alarmed by me. It didn't seem to work at all, because when she looked up at me, the fear in her eyes morphed into absolute terror. Her body started to shake as she cried and cried, never taking her eyes off me. I realized I still had my razor open in my hand. I quickly closed it, returned it to my pocket, and went to kneel beside the bed. She seemed to shake more and more the closer I got, and by the time I was next to her she looked so afraid for her life that I thought she might just completely shatter.

"I won't hurt you, love..." Were the first words that came out of my mouth. "Not tonight..."

Her shaking calmed only slightly. I put a hand on her cheek. It was smooth but wet with tears. I brushed each new one away as it fell. I knew it was a fairly intimate gesture, but I knew how she felt about me. Maybe she'd be comforted by it. When she continued to shake and cry, I knew I couldn't stop there.

"What's wrong?" I asked her. She sniffled before speaking, her voice a strangled whisper.

"You're goin' to kill me." She said.

I was taken aback. I'd come close to killing her a few times, but she'd never been anything but brave in the face of danger. The fact that she was scared now, for no good reason, baffled me.

"I'm not goin' to kill you, love..." I told her soothingly, petting her cheek with my thumb and surprising myself with my own certainty. I had always just sort of left the option open for myself, but now I'd promised her... I was confused at my own words.  
Mrs. Lovett shook her head at me and sniffed again.

"Not now," she told me, struggling to speak, "but you will. One day you'll slit my throat and then I'll be gone and my body will be gone and there'll be nothing left and I'll be nothing..." She trailed off into another hysteric fit of crying, and I knew then that it'd be tougher than I thought to get her to stop.

I stood up and walked around to the opposite side of the bed, laid down carefully on top of the blankets that the woman lay beneath, and turned towards her. The shaking had started again, but before she could turn to see my face, I scooted over to her and pressed my body against hers. I gently draped my arm over her and just laid there with her, touching her enough but not too much. Her rapid breathing slowed slightly at my touch as though, even though she was convinced that I'd be the one to end her life, my presence was still reassuring.

I was confused, however, as to why she thought I'd kill her. Was it just my regular homicidal tendencies, or was it something more? Was there something she knew that I'd kill her for?

As I pondered this, her shaking gradually stopped and her breathing calmed to a normal pace. She had fallen asleep. Carefully, ever so carefully, I moved my arm and got up off the bed, coming around to peer at her face. Even in sleep she managed to appear afraid. It was a terrible sight.

I turned away from her sleeping form and left the room. Her terror had shaken me and I didn't understand it.

_Why do you care, _I asked myself, _at least she stopped crying._


End file.
